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Yor didn't think her husband was a vain man (it wasn't vanity to take care of your physical appearance—first impressions were important, after all), but lately, she had seen him frowning at his reflection in the mirror

"Loid, is something wrong?" She finally asked after seeing the event repeat a few days consecutively, thus most likely ruling out a shaving issue. 

"You noticed..." he grimaced, scratching the back of his neck. "I've started to grow gray hairs. Quite a few of them, in fact." He tilted his head to give her a better view of the strands. "I wouldn't be surprised if all my stress from Anya's life at school shaved 10 years off my life or aged me by another 10. Although I guess I'm lucky I still have hair to complain about."

She tried to taper her laughter down so as not to make him feel bad, but she couldn't help it. "Her antics can certainly be a handful. But you know," her tone turned wistful, "I wish I got to see my parents grow old and gray together." Loid took her hands in his. "Just wait until I start sprouting gray hairs, then Anya can watch us both lose our hair over her." She smiled as she squeezed his hands back.